


I'm Hung Up On You

by KoreArabin



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Play, Asphyxiation, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, BDSM, Bondage, Breathplay, Gags, M/M, Masochism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Roleplay, Sadism, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-12 06:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5655073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoreArabin/pseuds/KoreArabin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Now. Look at me and open your mouth, you little fucker."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The strap is wound around Jim's wrists and buckled tight. Jim moans and struggles briefly, but his captor isn't going to be swayed by any sham sentiment. He leaves Jim shivering slightly in the bare cellar, his flimsy t-shirt and cotton shorts doing little to keep out the chill of the cold concrete.

“Step over here.”

He lowers the noose from its hook in the cellar ceiling. Jim steps backwards, flinching.

“No.”

“Come on, son. Don’t make this difficult. Step over here and it’ll all be over before you know it.”

Jim hisses in pain as his bare feet step on something sharp on the concrete floor.

“No. No, I didn’t do it. I’m innocent, I swear it. I didn’t do it!”

Jim’s voice rises, panicking, as he backs away from his captor and the noose. There’s nowhere to go; the bare grey concrete cellar has only one door, and it’s solid and locked tight.

“Calm down, lad. You’re making it harder on yourself. Deep breaths – that’s it – and calm yourself down.”

“I’m innocent! I didn’t do it – I didn’t do anything! You’ve got the wrong man!”

“No point fighting it, son. It’s going to happen. It’s the date and the time, isn’t it? You can’t keep justice waiting. And justice will ensure that you get what’s coming to you; you’re about to receive your just deserts.”


	2. Chapter 2

It's so easy, cinching those wrists together with the strap, a duplicate of the one they’d seen in numerous viewings of Hangmen at the Royal Court, and afterwards at Wyndham’s, the one Jim insisted Seb procure for him. Jim had just adored the violence in the play – the fighting, the struggling, the coshing to the back of the head, and then the choking, the strangulation, the _hanging_ , the sheer fucking brutality of it all. 

Jim’d wanted a strap; he‘d wanted a leg strap; he’d wanted a noose and a trapdoor and a fucking _scaffold_ , _ferfucksake_ , but he’d been persuaded to compromise (for the minute, anyways) on the noose and the straps. And being slapped around until he was groggy enough to be forcibly stripped down to his smalls by Seb, doing his best sadistically perverted gaoler impersonation. Tough call, that. Not.

Seb winds the said strap around Jim's wrists - tight - oh, the little fucker moans, but Seb knows what Jim wants, what Jim _needs_ , to dampen down that manic energy, those spiralling thoughts.

_"There is no genius free from some tincture of madness”._

Meh.

"Fucksake _Sebastian_. Sherlock keeps me straight-jacketed in a padded cell. Metal collar, chains, the whole caboodle. _Fucking. Locking. Crotch. Strap_."

Seb cannot deny that his prick gives a fucking _spasm_ then. 

_I laugh at your simply twitching cocks, bitches._

"Sherlock's a smug cunt. All it needs to get you wet is _this_."

He powers up the hydraulic winch, hoisting the noose up until Jim's teetering and choking.

"Now. Look at me and open your mouth, you little fucker."


End file.
